


Alive

by memefair



Series: Canon Divergent: Nanamicentric [8]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Human Nanami Chiaki, Nanami Chiaki Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 08:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14849474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memefair/pseuds/memefair
Summary: She's illogical, Izuru decided a long time ago. Maybe that's why he values her.A quick Kamunami oneshot.





	Alive

Survivors, in their sentiment, often tried to prepare proper graves for those who had passed. He found them littering the ground as he traveled, some cut off before they could finish the preparation. No doubt they were killed themselves as they tried to hold onto some semblance of their old morality.

It would be tedious, and moreover pointless to continue where they left off. The corpses remained, and he moved on.

Future Foundation wasn’t much better. They sent their acolytes to ravaged settlements to assist with disposing of the bodies. Mass graves were built, and then burned. It was more efficient than burning each body on its own, but it wasn’t enough.

The smoke signaled raiders. Ultimately, their efforts would end the same way, with the senseless slaughter of their people.

It was all so disorganized. Future Foundation couldn’t spare a proper guard, but neither could they allow the corpses to continue decomposing out in the open. That was a health hazard, and it was poor for morale.

Remnants of the time before the Tragedy. Shrines left for the fallen, personal belongings forgotten, advertisements decorated with graffiti, electricity failing with no generators to back it up. Plumbing was rare. Holding a decent conversation was rarer still.

None of it was what Enoshima promised. Even in its chaos, the world clung to routine.

He saw the worst of what humanity had to offer and was not impressed.

The only thing that proved interesting was the girl Enoshima had tried so hard to kill in such an extravagant manner. He remembered the construction of that elaborate death trap down to every last detail. He’d contributed to its design, of course.

Yet if Enoshima had succeeded, she would have taken away exactly what she had promised him: An element in the mix that he was  _ unable to predict _ , genuine words falling from the mouth of somebody whose life was already leaking out of her. 

Even then he did nothing. He allowed her to lapse into silence, would have pursued Enoshima’s goal of goading her towards the end so she could play her part as sacrificial lamb if not for Tengan Kazuo’s intervention. That, too, was unexpected-- a last minute gift from Mitarai Ryouta.

It wasn’t until the tears fell that he realized she’d provoked an unanticipated reaction from him.

The probability of her death had been high. But it wasn’t impossible, and so he hadn’t been  _ particularly _ surprised to see her alive in Towa City, working under a branch of Future Foundation. He’d been preoccupied with pursuing his own project, though.

Leaving her be hadn’t worried him. She’d proven stubborn, having survived so long already, and he had faith in his luck. They would meet again.

...and again, and again, and again, until most of their encounters were coordinated, planned out so they each knew exactly what to expect. It was rather dull, but she didn’t seem to enjoy it when he showed up unannounced.

This time, he found her in a pile of bodies.

Fresh, not yet really begun to decompose, but nonetheless a rather unsanitary place to be hiding. He could only assume that she’d hidden there out of pure desperation, unable to find a better place as a small army of Remnants had marched on her location.

She’d managed to wedge herself in between several of the other bodies. Anybody glancing at the pile in passing would not have been able to distinguish between the two, but it was simple for him.

She fought for a moment, when he pulled her out. Tooth and nail, a reaction that was more instinct than anything consciously commanded. He spoke, one word, just enough to break through the haze so she could acknowledge his identity.

“Nanami.”

With that, all the fight left her.  _ She  _ left, fleeing somewhere far away, face going blank. 

He recognized the look. It was exactly as he’d predicted. Dissociation, avoiding the trauma until it caught up and overtook her. He expected a breakdown was coming, though he couldn’t pinpoint the exact timing of it. It could take a few hours, or even a few days. He could narrow it down, provided he stayed by her side.

She did, however, manage to murmur his name before she slipped back into her dissociative state: “Kamukura-kun…”

He placed a hand on her shoulder and gently steered her in the direction of his temporary residence.

Normally, he didn’t bother too much with adjustments, satisfied with conditions that most others would find deplorable. Things like hot running water and working light fixtures were not necessities, but luxuries. He indulged to the extent that was necessary to survive and keep up appearances, even though his talent would make it simple to set up a functioning generator just about anywhere.

This time, though, he’d had a feeling that he might have a visitor.

So it was that Nanami was directed to a dwelling that had almost all the comforts of home. He’d even found the van she’d left sitting outside the town, so she had a change of clothes after he pressed her to wash the gore off her body in the shower.

(It took some doing, but after he threatened to  _ help her _ , it seemingly sank in that this was something she needed to take care of on her own.)

For hours, she didn’t speak. He was content with that, preparing a meal without her input. 

By the time she was clean and dressed, she was fully on autopilot, taking a seat at the table without a word.

It wasn’t until darkness fell that she finally spoke. He had every intention of leaving her to her own devices until she recovered, but as soon as he made to leave the room, she begged him not to leave. For just that moment, her composure crumpled.

Hours later, lying there in the dark as sleep settled in, he still wondered why he had stayed.

It didn’t take him long to fall asleep. It was nearly as easy as breathing, even when Nanami rested,  _ restless _ , five feet away. Tossing and turning, trying to find the most comfortable spot, her agitation starting to show even though she hadn’t quite broken free of her numbness yet. 

It wouldn’t be long now. She would fall asleep and wake up restored to her true self, or she would crumble as she attempted to pass out.

He couldn’t understand her situation, nor did he have any desire to. Her distress was born almost entirely from empathy for other beings. Anybody who operated strictly on a logical basis would know that the corpses she had used to hide herself were no longer people. Moreover, their suffering had nothing to do with her.

He would say so himself, given the proper opportunity to express his opinion. He was nothing if not polite.

Izuru slept.

He awoke some hours later to a cry of terror from within the dark room. Nanami had bolted upright in the makeshift bed he had prepared and was shaking, arms wrapped around herself, nails digging into her skin. She had not awoken, but was instead held captive by a nightmare no doubt brought on by the stress of that day’s events.

With a sigh, he turned and reached over, well aware that waking her up would startle a violent response from her. That was the most likely outcome, at least-- she would attempt to defend herself, come to her senses, and try to deflect, at least based on his past encounters with her.

The instant Izuru touched her, she whirled on him. He caught her hands easily as she struck, allowing her to push blindly into him. Her head would have connected with his chin if he didn’t see the move coming and angle himself back, away from the attack. 

By the time Nanami awoke, she was on top of him. There was no real threat, after all. Izuru had no intent to cause her injury, even if it was injury brought about by him defending himself from her lackluster attempts to lash out. She couldn’t hurt him even if she was awake.

He still held onto her wrists. Her knees pressed into his stomach. Her eyes opened, and Nanami looked up, noticing their awkward position almost immediately. He released his grip, satisfied that her “assault” was over.

An emotional reaction was expected: Embarrassment, humiliation, or grief were the most likely candidates.

The latter won the day, as tears sprang up in her eyes almost immediately. The events of the past day filtered back in. Her face screwed up in an attempt to hold it back, but it wasn’t within her ability to deny her feelings any longer.

Newly freed, her hands found his shoulders. Nanami pushed  _ back _ , and in his surprise he permitted it. Now he truly  _ was _ pinned to the floor, with Nanami hovering over him, angry and in mourning.

A drop of something wet hit his cheek.

“Sorry,” Nanami whispered, gritting her teeth as the sobs rose up in her. “I’m-- sorry--”

The moment stayed there, suspended like a storm cloud about to break. Her weight rested uncomfortably on top of him, most of it pressing down into his torso where she continued to kneel. 

She blocked his view of the room. All he could see was Nanami, trying so hard not to break down, uncertain of what she was even doing, tears trickling down her nose to where they landed on his face.

For the first time in months, Izuru was bewildered.

“...for what?” he asked her.

She didn’t have an answer. He doubted she could even speak coherently, too wrapped up in her own emotions.

Nanami bowed her head, folding in on herself. The tension left her body. Though she did not move from her position on top of him, she stretched her legs out, lying flat so her face was pressed up against his neck. She continued to cry, apologizing over and over again.

For once in his life, Izuru had absolutely no idea how to deal with the situation at hand.

No. That was false. It would be easy enough for him to lift her off him, to put her back where she was so he could return and sleep the rest of the night. It wouldn’t affect him in the slightest. Her sobs might make it a little more difficult, but he was certain he could rest if he just removed her.

But that wasn’t what he wanted.

Hesitating, Izuru loosely put his arms around her. The idea of comfort wasn’t  _ entirely _ alien to him. He’d seen it employed while observing other people, particularly during the Tragedy. It seemed to work, to some extent. And of course he knew everything there was to know about successful methods of therapy, given that there had been several Ultimate Therapists over the course of history.

Nanami buried her face in his neck. It was… wet. The sensation wasn’t particularly pleasant. He wrinkled his nose slightly as he considered his next course of action.

Izuru closed his eyes and breathed out. He threaded his fingers through her hair, trying to mimic what he’d seen others do without even half the feeling behind it. It should have been an empty gesture, but Nanami relaxed more, putting her own arms around him as she continued to cry.

That was more satisfying than he would have thought.

She kept crying. He made an attempt to shift her weight on him so that he could get more comfortable, but he did not move otherwise. He repeated the gesture, his mind racing to all kinds of hidden avenues to try and justify the logic of his situation, to explain away why he allowed her to put him in such a position.

There was no justification, because there was no logic. He ought to be disgusted with that prospect, but he was merely intrigued.

Nanami was fragile. He could do as he wanted with her, and not just in a physical sense. Her desire to please others made her easy to manipulate. It left her incredibly vulnerable, open to attack from all sides. The only reason she was alive was her pragmatism, as demonstrated by her quick thinking when she hid in that pile of corpses earlier that day.

He  _ shouldn’t _ care whether such a pathetic creature was upset.

It was those thoughts that plagued Izuru as he began to drift off again. Nanami’s distress grew further away, until he only vaguely took note of the weight on him. And then there was nothing, the room falling silent once more.

When he awoke in the morning, Nanami still dozed on the floor beside him. He took note of that only briefly before he rose to greet the day.

_ Something _ had changed, but he couldn’t yet tell what it was.

**Author's Note:**

> i tried to tackle writing from izurus perspective and it's about as tedious as he finds everything else in life.
> 
> this was meant to be a small part of something bigger i want to work on, but it kind of evolved to be its own stand-alone thing. oops. (also, add writing summaries to a list of things i HATE)


End file.
